


Gradually

by Serenity_V



Category: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenity_V/pseuds/Serenity_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began." After watching this movie, I felt that Darcy and Elizabeth's relationship escalated too quickly. Since I am not under the same time constraints, I decided to have my own bit of fun with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> A.N.: For the record, I never had any inclination to watch this movie. I expected it to be completely stupid. But, last week, some of my friends decided to go see it, and I figured I may as well go along for the company, as I had nothing better to do. Besides, in her efforts to convince me to come, my roommate told me that Matt Smith was playing Collins, and I figured that, if nothing else, would be worth seeing. I chose not to take the movie too seriously, because then I would be forced to judge it rather harshly, but I thought it was very funny and allowed myself to enjoy it. Despite my deliberate leniency, however, one thing still bothers me - in order to make time for the zombie storyline, they had to compress the original, and while they actually did a commendable job for most of it, I felt that, after Rosings, we lost too much of Darcy and Elizabeth. I realize that things can't be quite as drawn out as in the book, but this is my attempt to make the development of their relationship a bit more gradual while still fitting within the boundaries of the movie.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have very little to do with the letter you are about to read. I did little more than take some excerpts from the book and the movie and fit them together in my own way.

The sun had only just begun to rise on the morning following Charlotte's wedding to Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth sighed in relief as her carriage rattled off down the road. After all that had passed, she could not return home soon enough. Mr. Darcy's letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart, and even as she set her face toward Hertfordshire, it plagued her mind, haunting her as it had incessantly since the author had first placed it in her hand.

_Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten. Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. If, in the explanation of my actions and motives, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd._

_I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not till she took ill and remained at Netherfield that I had any apprehension, for knowing of her occupation as a slayer of the undead, I was certain that she had been stricken with the strange plague. Not wishing to trouble you or any of the Netherfield party with my theory, I endeavoured to smother Bingley's affections, thus sparing him the agony of watching your sister succumb. Upon her recovery, which I expected to be temporary, I perceived that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but I remained convinced that she would soon begin the cheerless descent into Satan's service. As the weeks turned to months, I began to question my observations. Why had she not yet turned? Could I have been so wrong as to mistake a simple fever for the strange plague? By the time I realised my error, it was too late to affect any undoing of the scheme. Mr. Bingley had been quite separated from Miss Bennet, both in distance and affection. Though I did so without malice, my actions have surely pained your sister, and your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the severity of your sister's cold was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was pledged to darkness. That I was desirous of believing her stricken is certain-but I will venture to say that my investigation and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be afflicted because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason._

_But there were other causes of repugnance. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently betrayed by herself, your three younger sisters, and even, on occasion, by your father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, let it give you consolation to consider that you and your elder sister are held in my highest esteem, both in manners and skill as fellow warriors. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done, and only as a consequence of affection for my friend._

_As to your other accusation of having injured Mr. Wickham: No sooner had my father made clear his intention to leave Mr. Wickham a handsome sum than Mr. Darcy was mysteriously infected by the plague. It was left to me, his son, to provide a merciful ending. Still, I gave Wickham the inheritance my father left. Wickham squandered it, whereupon he demanded more and more money until I eventually refused. Thereafter, he severed all ties with me. Last summer, he began a relationship with my 15 year old sister and convinced her to elope. Mr. Wickham's prime target was her inheritance of 30,000 pounds, but revenging himself on me was a strong additional inducement. Fortunately I was able to persuade my sister of Mr. Wickham's ulterior motives before it was too late._

_I hope this helps explain and perhaps mitigate my behavior in your eyes. May God bless you, and save England from her present unhappiness._

_FITZWILLIAM DARCY_

Elizabeth studied every sentence, and her feelings towards its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of indignation. But, when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself, and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect. But she could not approve him, nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret, and in the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin.

She knew not what to think or feel, but looked forward to relief upon her return home. She would not - could not - burden dear Jane with that news of Mr. Bingley that could bring her only misery, but the rest could be confided, and sparring with her sisters would be a welcome distraction from the thoughts that troubled her.


	2. Pemberley

Elizabeth wondered whether the universe - or, more particularly, her life - was governed by the whims of Random Chance or the directives of Fate, and if the latter, whether that Fate was sentient and enjoyed tormenting her. She had not been home long when she was called upon by duty to leave once more. His Majesty - or, more likely, one of his generals - had arranged for every county in England to be toured by one of the premier warriors of the nation, who would visit each of the Great Houses in their assigned region and report on the state of their fortifications.

Elizabeth had been flattered when she'd been chosen as one of the participants, positively thrilled at the prospect - until she'd been told where she would be sent: Derbyshire.

_He_ lived in Derbyshire. She had already agreed to the office, however, so it was too late to object.

Elizabeth, with two soldiers accompanying her as a sort of honor guard, arrived at the inn at Lambton as the sun was setting. She'd managed to put it off until the very end of her assignment, but there was now only one House with its attendant fortifications that she had yet to review: Pemberley.

The next day found her walking along the perimeter of the walls, taking in each detail of design and making a careful note of all she saw. Having received an assurance that morning that the proprietor was not at home, with no plans to return until the morrow, Elizabeth's relief allowed her to simply focus on- and, even, enjoy - her task. She found herself greatly admiring the fortifications; they were truly something, though not perfect. She documented the handful of places in which better maintenance looked to be required and jotted down a suggestion or two for additional lines of defense. All in all, however, she was deeply impressed; they were the best defenses she'd seen in all of Derbyshire.

As she approached the front gates, nearing the completion of her circuit, she was surprised to see a figure on horseback apparently having just arrived. As he entered the gates, he caught sight of her and stopped, and as they looked at each other, she recognized him.

Elizabeth blushed at the thought of meeting him here. Oh, how embarrassing it was! But, he wasn't supposed to be there! She'd been informed that he was away, and not expected to return until the next day.

_Perhaps he will ignore me,_ she reasoned. _He cannot be any more eager to see me again than I him after our last meeting._

She was mistaken, however. Apparently, he did have some interest in renewing their acquaintance, for he approached her, surprising her with his civility when he dismounted upon reaching her. Recovering some measure of composure - or, at least, a passable show of it - Elizabeth performed a slight curtsy, murmuring in greeting, "Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Bennet," he bowed.

They stood for a moment in awkward silence, neither sure what to say to the other, before he asked after her family, and she managed to stutter out, "They are well. I thank you."

There was another moment's pause before, flustered, Elizabeth hastened to inform him that she hadn't meant to intrude and that she had, in fact, chosen to perform her office at a time when she had been informed he was not at home, "Indeed, I was given to understand that you were not expected before tomorrow."

He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a little before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They will join me early tomorrow," he continued, "and among them is one who will claim an acquaintance with you - Mr. Bingley."

She answered only with a nod. Her thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had last been mentioned between them, and if she might judge from his complexion, his mind was not very differently engaged.

"Perhaps," he began after a slight hesitation, "Perhaps, you would not be averse to the idea of calling on me tomorrow? I am sure Mr. Bingley would like to see you again, and I confess I am quite curious to hear your impressions of my fortifications; I always like to review them after I have been away for a while, and I am sure such a great warrior as yourself will have many insights that will help me strengthen them further."

Elizabeth blushed at the unexpected praise and stood for a while in silence, shocked at the invitation. Finally, she gathered the presence of mind to excuse herself by saying that, after finishing her report that afternoon, she would have to depart early the next morning to carry it to headquarters.

Before Mr. Darcy could make any sort of reply, however, one of the two soldiers, who had hung back throughout the conversation, stepped forward to state that, after Elizabeth finished her report, her duty would be fulfilled, and he and his companion would see her report delivered, leaving her free to return home when and as she wished.

"Excellent," Mr. Darcy said before she could object, "Then I may expect you tomorrow? And, perhaps, you would not mind extending your stay another day or so to depart with Mr. Bingley? I am quite sure he will wish to return to Hertfordshire with you after a certain matter which he and I must discuss, and I believe you would both be glad of the company."

Having no civil way to object, Elizabeth was forced to say, "I suppose...that would be agreeable."

They parted soon afterwards, Elizabeth's head spinning as she tried to make sense of the encounter.

* * *

When she arrived the next day, she was informed that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were, at that moment, shut up in the former's study. As she waited in the next room, she thought she heard muffled yelling in a voice that sounded like Bingley's, but she could not hear the words and had trouble believing one with such a mild disposition as he would do such a thing.

A few moments later saw him storming out the door, but he stopped short when he saw Elizabeth, taking a moment - and a few deep breaths - to compose himself, unwilling for his frustration to taint his interaction with her. Surprised, she wondered what could have so upset the temperate man.

He greeted her, and his smile was only a little forced. They talked for a short while, and he asked after her family, with an air about him a few times that suggested he wished to ask more particularly after a certain one of her sisters, but he never did.

As their conversation drew to a close, he said, "Mr. Darcy," and the name was accompanied by a surprising stiffness, "suggested that you might be amenable to travelling back to Hertfordshire with me. How would you feel about leaving tomorrow morning?"

A little off balance, and very curious, Elizabeth managed to express her approval of the idea, and Mr. Bingley left her then to make the arrangements. As he walked away, she remembered the conversation she'd had with his friend the previous day, and in particular, his saying, _I am quite sure he will wish to return to Hertfordshire with you after a certain matter which he and I must discuss._

_Could it be...?_ she wondered.

Hesitantly, she approached the door to the study and knocked lightly. At the sound of a gruff, "Enter," she did so, seeing the room's only other occupant standing at the window on the far side of the room; at first glance, one might think his posture cold, but to Elizabeth, he looked a bit forlorn.

He looked around as she stepped inside the room, careful to leave the door partway open for propriety's sake, and seemed surprised to see her.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Darcy." She hesitated, then, but wanted confirmation of the subject she believed they must have discussed.

"I've just seen Mr. Bingley," she began slowly, tactfully. "He appeared rather upset." She paused before taking a breath to steady herself and continuing, "Yesterday, you mentioned that you planned to discuss something with him that you believed might...encourage him to return to Hertfordshire."

His only answer was a stiff nod.

"You spoke to him about Jane, didn't you?"

"I did," he answered shortly, apparently unwilling to speak much on the matter.

Hardly knowing why she did, Elizabeth said, "That was very...good of you."

He looked surprised at that, speechless for a moment, before saying, "It was the least I could do. He deserved to know the truth. And, now, I feel I should apologize to you once more for any pain I may have caused your sister." Though not without some awkwardness, his words seemed sincere.

Elizabeth thought for a moment, unsure how to respond. Resolving to be as honest as she could, she said, "While I cannot condone your presumptuous interference in this matter...From what you have told me, your intentions were good and pure, and I believe you only acted out of concern for your friend; that being so, you shouldn't blame yourself. Your candor with Mr. Bingley now says more than any apology ever could."

He blinked in surprise, before hesitantly asking, "Then...I have your forgiveness on this point?"

"Completely," she answered, a little surprised at how wholly she meant it.

Afterwards, they held their promised discussion of Pemberley's fortifications, and she found herself enjoying it far more than she might have expected. He seemed to share her pleasure.


	3. Upping the Ante

Elizabeth returned home to be greeted by all her sisters but one; Lydia had gone off on an excursion of her own, invited to Brighton by her friend, Mrs. Forster. The thought of the silly child out on her own, exposing herself in public without supervision, made Elizabeth anxious, and had she been home at the time, she would have counselled against allowing her to go, but there was nothing to be done about it now, and the joys of home were such that she soon put it out of her mind. Indeed, her father told her several times how glad he was to have her home, and she had missed him while she'd been away.

And, of course, Mr. Bingley and Jane had been engaged within the week of their return. Their happiness was contagious, and Elizabeth found herself almost constantly with a smile, even in the face of her mother's rather overzealous good humor.

A while later, buried among the heaps of well-wishes and congratulations addressed to Jane, Elizabeth found a letter for herself. She caught her breath when she saw from whom it had been sent.

Why would he write to her? Was it possible that-?

No. No, best not to speculate about the contents of the letter but to simply read it and find out. Making sure she was alone and would not be disturbed, she unfolded the parchment and read:

_Miss Elizabeth Bennet,_

_I hope you will not find this correspondence too presumptuous, but I felt compelled to seek some contact with you, if only through writing, lest I not have another opportunity to do so. Perhaps, I can never hope to gain your love in this life, but I am comforted, after our last meeting, that you at least no longer think so poorly of me as you once did - as I, regrettably, gave you just cause to do - and that thought shall console me if I fall._

_I write to you from the siege of London. There is now a cunning design to the zombie attack. I sense a dark hand is at work. They are guiding the enemy, Ms. Bennet. By taking London they've increased their ranks a hundred fold. Now we endeavor to keep them trapped within the great wall. If we should fail to contain them and they breach Hingham Bridge, it'll be as if a great dam has broken, and they'll reach out for us swiftly and in overwhelming numbers._

_Dear Ms. Bennet, I implore you to be ready._

_FITZWILLIAM DARCY_

Hardly knowing what to think, Elizabeth could not remain still. She took a ride to clear her head, thoughts racing like the horse beneath her. The second half of Mr. Darcy's letter concerned her, worrying anxiously at the back of her mind, but the chief of her thoughts were concerned with the first part.

Did he, then, still love her? Did she _want_ his love? What were her feelings for him?

He was, she admitted, handsome, and she'd admired his ability as a warrior from the start. As she'd learned the truth behind her misconceptions and grown to know the man better, she'd gained true respect for his character.

Hardest of all to deny was that she was worried for him. She had every confidence in his ability to defend himself, but he'd written plainly of the situation, and it was dire.

When she returned home, her thoughts were no more clear or calm than when she'd left, and she was met by yet more bad news.

"Wickham has run off with Lydia."

As distressing as it was, Elizabeth almost welcomed it. This was a problem to solve, something to do. In this, she at least knew where to start.

At the sight of the seal on the letter in Jane's hands, Elizabeth pronounced, "I know where she is."

As she'd readied herself to pursue her sister, the last thing she'd expected was the Lady Catherine's interruption. Unprepared as she was to deal with the unwelcome intrusion, she did not back down. Even with everything else on her mind, Elizabeth could not help but take pride in earning the Lady's respect.

In the end, she, Bingley, and Jane departed for London and St. Lazarus, while the rest retired to Rosings.

* * *

The bridge exploded even as they desperately raced across, and as the dust settled, Elizabeth's first thought was surprise that she yet lived.

Her second was concern for her companion. She struggled to keep her composure as she reached Darcy's motionless form, and her own heart skipped a beat when she failed to detect a pulse. In desperation, she removed her glove before trying once more, refusing to give up, and a tear of relief slipped down her cheek when she felt that his heart still beat, though faintly.

"You are the most stubborn man I've ever met," she whispered. "You _will_ awake."

Recognizing how desperately she needed it to be true, Elizabeth finally realized: She loved this man.


	4. Guardian Angel

Eight days had passed since the destruction of the bridge, and Mr. Darcy had not stirred.

With a solemn shake of his head, the physician stepped back from the still body, saying, "He is gone."

Elizabeth's fingers flew, seeking confirmation, to the pulse of the man she loved, and after a moment that could not be bounded in eternity, she cried in outrage, "His heart yet beats! He lives!"

"More than a week he has lain growing stiff, as pale as death itself. If ever he do rise, which is more doubtful than what follows, it can only be as one of the living dead."

Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to gut the supercilious old fool where he stood, and indeed, her hand moved to rest on the handle of her blade, but she restrained herself. Such an act would not weigh heavily on her conscience, but it would do nothing to remedy the situation at hand.

Taking a deep breath and looking down at Mr. Darcy's too-still figure, inspiration struck Elizabeth in such a form as to make her lips quirk up into her first real smile - however wry - in eight days. Whipping out a phial from the place she knew it to be concealed, she removed the stopper and filled the air with carrion flies.

"Until these flies stop buzzing," she proclaimed with her jaw set in seriousness once more and a dangerous glint in her eyes, "He lives." She sat, then, at his bedside and, drawing her blades and laying them across her lap, glared up at the physician before continuing, "And I will answer any assay otherwise."

Henceforth, she seldom left her self-appointed post, and only when the Lady Catherine herself took up the watch.

* * *

All was timeless blackness.

Well, not quite _all._ Sometimes - oftimes - he thought he heard a woman's voice. He never could make out the words, but the tone sounded affectionate and reassuring, though worried.

He knew he only dreamed, however, because he recognized that voice: It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet's, and she could not be speaking to him - not with such tenderness, and not so often. Perhaps she had forgiven his rash and foolish actions, but that did not mean she would ever seek his company.

Still, real or imagined, the voice was a balm to his soul and sounded closer each time he heard it. Slowly, gradually, the darkness began to fade.

Finally, a day came on which the black sea smothering him melted away entirely, and he awoke. At his groan, the woman at his bedside turned sharply toward him, slowly coming into focus as he fixed his long closed eyes on her.

Silently reproving himself for his disappointment upon recognizing his aunt, Lady Catherine, he distracted himself by hoarsely asking, "What is that horrid buzzing?"

The woman smirked and told him.

* * *

 

The first time ELizabeth had occasion to speak with Mr. Darcy after he'd awakened from his lengthy unconsciousness, she wasn't sure what to do with herself.

"You look as though you are fully mended," she managed to say.

"I am, thank you. If it wasn't for you, I'd have surely perished. My aunt told me what you did for me. I owe you a great debt."

"No," she immediately protested, "If you speak of debts, I was only repaying mine for your saving my sister, Lydia."

"Ah," he said, hoping he hid the sinking of his heart well enough. "Was that the reason, then, that you defended me so?"

Elizabeth's heart quickened at the query. Did he hope for a different reason for her care? Could he still love her?

Haltingly, she answered, "Well...perhaps that was a part of it...but not all."

Her companion started, searching her eyes. Was it possible that she meant what he hoped? With a deep, fortifying breath, he began, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were, tell me so at once. _My_ affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

Struggling for breath, Elizabeth kept silent rather than speak the wrong word, and he took it as permission to continue.

"You are the love of my life Elizabeth Bennet. So, I ask you now, half in anguish, half in hope: Will you do me the great great honor of taking me for your husband?"

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> A.N.: As I said, I really didn't do much here. This chapter was pretty much just establishing a starting point for my story, which will kick off in the next chapter.


End file.
